


When the Morning Comes

by mhunter10



Series: fic!february (28 day challenge) [14]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fic!February, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey wake up still at the loft party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Morning Comes

Mickey opened his eyes and immediately shut them because there was way too much light in the room. Svetlana must have opened the curtains and he was going to have to say something to her again, but then he remembered he wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even in his house.

He opens his eyes again and looks around the room.

The loft.

The party last night.

He sits up on the sofa-bed and rubs his hands down his face and through his hair. His head hurts, but he's not sure if it's from all the fancy liquor, or from everything in the past couple days catching up to him. It was fucking disorienting. He tried to remember back just to what he had said before passing out, but it was fuzzy.

"You're finally up," Ian said quietly from behind him.

Mickey's head whipped around. He didn't know why he was so surprised, because he could feel Ian next to him when he got up. Maybe he hadn't thought he was awake.

"Yeah," he said. He cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes. "Place is fucking bright, man,"

Ian moved his head up and looked towards the windows that lined the wall behind them. He nodded, but didn't say anything. He'd been watching Mickey sleep for about fifteen minutes, wondering how his face seemed so relaxed when he was anything but at the party. He had left him once to talk and mingle and get drinks, but he felt sort of bad watching him. He was definitely out of his comfort zone, standing there looking pissed and scared the way he only could; eyes darting around and scowling at anyone who looked like they were going to approach him. After that, Mickey wouldn't let him out of his sight. He followed him around and didn't talk much, choosing to stick close and stay unnoticed. It was like he was trying to use him as camouflage while wearing his clothes. There was a point when some guy was trying a little too hard to figure them out, seeing just how out of place Mickey was and taking advantage. Mickey wasn't like the rest of the guys dancing and laughing and doing other things around the party. It wasn't like a Milkovich to rub elbows with people who could afford to laugh when seven thousand dollar champagne was spilled on their nineteen thousand dollar couch. Neither was Ian, really, but it wasn't new to him, thanks to Ned and maybe a few others he'd met along the way. Mickey was an easy target for their drugged, drunken laughter, and when Mickey finally stormed off in lieu of starting a fight that would prove he didn't belong, he had this look on his face that made Ian's stomach sink. The party wasn't fun anymore. In fact, it hadn't really been since they got there, but for some reason he was trying to prove something or push something that just didn't even matter.

He watched him go up a flight of stairs and disappear, staying back for a few moments before following after him. He knew the older boy needed time to wrap his head around something solid. When he looked in several of the rooms and still didn't find him, he realized just how ridiculous coming to this party was. Seeing all the random guys in random dark corners with loud music drowning out their judgement and morality, was making him feel like a fish in too much water...or salt water. When he got to the last room, he knew Mickey would be inside. He went in and closed the door, and was surprised he managed to find one that was empty. It seemed to be some kind of library slash study slash escape. It felt oddly separate from the rest of the loft. He stepped over pieces of some priceless trinket that was smashed on the floor, and actually felt himself smile with pride. Mickey had had the guts to fuck something up, if not someone's face. He came over to him and sat next to him on the sofabed in the middle of the room. Mickey didn't look up from his concentration on the floor. Ian took his leather jacket off and threw it on the arm, then leaned back and got comfortable.

"This party fucking blows, and not in a good way," Mickey finally said, laughing to himself.

"I think that's happening down in the basement, actually," Ian said seriously, although he didn't know if it was exactly true.

"This place has a basement?"

"I think that's what the 'B' stand for in the elevator."

Mickey shook his head and cursed. he hung his head, but didn't seem comfortable, so he leaned back so their shoulders were touching.

"Is this what I gotta put up with?" he asked more to himself.

Ian heard the unfinished nature of that question.

"Do you want to leave?"

Mickey thought a moment. Did he? Things were definitely quieter and more in control up here than down there in that mess of faggots in their Ralph Lauren sweaters and dress slacks and drinks fruitier than them. He was finally able to relax a minute and all it took was just being with the one person he came with and definitely wanted to go back home with.

"It's late," he said, unsure what to really say.

"Yeah.."

"I'm tired, man,"

Ian looked around the room before answering. "Lets stay here, then.."

Mickey turned and looked at him, "Seriously?"

Ian shrugged, "Yeah."

Mickey seemed to consider it another moment before letting his body fully sink into the cushions. He crossed his arms and stared at the door.

"What if somebody comes in?"

Ian snorted, "You're worried about that here, Mick?"

Mickey rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just..." he paused, thinking if he actually wanted to let his next words out of his mouth, "...don't want anyone to ruin..us."

Ian looked at the side of Mickey's face and couldn't formulate a response. It was like his brain was shorting out. He rubbed his fingers on the back of his neck and looked away.

"They won't." He reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh and closed his eyes. He felt Mickey's hand touch his for a minute.

That was the last thing he remembered.

He didn't know how he fell asleep with Mickey's words in his head.

"What time is it?" Mickey asked suddenly, feeling Ian's gaze on him.

"About nine?" Ian guessed from the last time he looked at his phone.

Mickey nodded and yawned. It was weird waking up with Ian. He wasn't used to it, being this close...not yet, anyway. That got his brain going again. It happened more and more that he was thinking like that; thinking how much time he wanted to spend with Ian, thinking about seeing him and watching him and being near him and talking to him. He wanted it all, but did he want whatever last night was? Was all that queeny chaos and bullshit what it had to be, or could they just..be? Ian wasn't quite himself yet, but he knew about all of it. And it didn't scare him nearly as much as it scared him. Maybe Ian was just as scared, but for the same reasons he was.

They were Southside.

That meant they could never really be what they wanted, how they wanted...but...Mickey didn't know where that line was. What would it be like to walk down the street with Ian at his side? What would it feel like when a bat came crashing through both their skulls because Mickey had let their arms touch?

He shook his head to get the image out. He couldn't even think of something like that when he had just gotten the kid back..sort of.

He was so confused.

He didn't want to be like Jack and Craig or Stevie and Tyler or whoever else.

He wanted to be Ian and Mickey. Just the two of them and no one else.

It terrified him that he wanted it so much; to be who he was and have Ian be who he was with him.

Because Ian belonged with him.

He just hadn't told him yet.

Mickey took a deep breath and steepled his hands in front of his face. He looked over at whatever he had knocked on the floor the night before, then turned to Ian, who was already looking at him.

His eyes looked so green in the light coming into the room, and his hair was brighter. He wanted to run his fingers through it and feel how silky it looked.

Ian held his gaze, waiting for Mickey to speak and not knowing if he was ready for what he was going to hear. He didn't know what he wanted it to be, but he silently hoped he could convey something in his face that would help Mickey through it.

Mickey turned his body to face Ian. He licked at his lips that he'd been biting on. He was determined.

"I been thinking..." he started, hearing his voice sound different. "Are we doing this?"

Ian let the question sink in, but didn't open his mouth to say anything, or take his eyes away.

Mickey took that as his cue to go on with more conviction, because he knew Ian was listening to him. Looking at his face in the light was stirring something inside of him that he thought would never be there. It was like all his organs were floating in his body, everything light like something had been lifted away.

"Because I think...I know I want this, but do you....want this? Us?"

"You mean, like, are we dating?" Ian finally asked.

Mickey shrugged and turned slightly red. "I don't know..."

Ian sat up a little more on his elbow and looked Mickey in the eyes. "Well do you want to be boyfriends?"

"No, I..no.."

"No?"

"I don't know what I want, but I just want to be with you, Ian!" Mickey said with a pleading and tired look on his face. He leaned in lightening fast and put his lips on Ian's, closing his eyes tight before getting up and pacing. He put his hands over his face. "Fuck!"

Ian watched him, sliding til he was perched on the edge of the sofa-bed.

"Mickey--"

"I've been going fucking crazy over this shit for months!" he laughed to himself, tugging at his hair and continuing to walk back and forth anxiously.

Ian got up and grabbed him and pulled him close by his head, kissing him hard on the mouth like Mickey had done to him in that rec room, catching him off guard. He felt Mickey wrap his arms around him and pull him in tighter, instead of pushing him away. He deepened the kiss, instead of breaking it and backing away. He wasn't fighting, he wasn't yelling, he wasn't resisting or holding back.

It was Mickey who pushed them back to the couch.

Mickey who ripped and shoved at their clothing.

Mickey who clung to Ian, as he slid into him hard.

It was all Mickey, all over Ian, and Ian held on to him as they writhed and panted.

It didn't take them long.

It wasn't about that really.

It was about what it said between them.

What it meant now.

They dressed quickly, hearing the sounds of hungover guests waking up below them and down the hall.

They left and made their way back to the Gallagher house, hardly able to keep their eyes off each other, or the small smiles off their faces.

Mickey shoved Ian.

Ian chased him for a bit.

They hadn't felt like this in ages it seemed.

When they finally got back, they went up the stairs, and to the bed they'd shared. Everyone was still asleep.

The house was quiet and warm and it felt like they could be here and not have to worry.

They climbed into Ian's bed, only taking their shirts off and throwing them to the floor.

They laid down facing each other and feeling like they were going to fucking float away, but they wanted so badly to stay right where they were together.

Mickey reached between them and took Ian's hand into his, watching their fingers curve around each others.

"Is this happening?" Mickey whispered, catching Ian's eyes.

Ian nodded slowly, smiling genuinely.

"Yeah.."

"Boyfriends."


End file.
